Cellular Breakdown
by Author Unknown1
Summary: Getting to know you, getting to know all about you–behind bars. A friendship story between Cain and Glitch. Voluntary slash perception welcomed though not intended.
1. Chapter One: Prisoners of Curiosity

Disclaimer: I neither own nor am I responsible for the characters or close approximation to character represented in this fiction.

Summary: Getting to know you, getting to know all about you–behind bars. A friendship story between Cain and Glitch. Voluntary slash perception welcomed though not intended.

If you are a reader of my stories you know I usually stop writing in the middle. Rest assured, though, that this story does have an ending and has already been written out. I will be fine-tuning the chapters as I post them and so no need for expected disappointment from this one :).

Constructive criticism appreciated and will fine tune with suggestions provided that I agree with.

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**Chapter One: **

_**Prisoner's of Curiosity**_

"This is all your fault, you know," he said, pacing back and forth in the small room. His coat picked up the created wind as it struggled to keep its place at the advisor's back.

"My fault? I was just following you!" the taller man protested. His sharp blue eyes locked with his friend's form as he paced from one side to the other.

"And why on earth would you do that! Hellooo. Headcase," he replied, emphasizing the statement by poking his temple.

"I assumed that since you got your marbles back you'd do well enough to find your way around a castle," Cain said.

Ambrose huffed. "Well, apparently I'm not very good with direction with or without a brain. And it wasn't exactly as if my brain was kept in entirely ideal conditions. Floating in green...goop...with wires attached to it and an eternal feeling of detachment doesn't exactly provide a perfect preservation. I mean, how would you feel if you knew you could reason and think but couldn't even blink because you didn't have eyelids, eyes, a head, or a body! It doesn't exactly make for a completely successful reintroduction to the already addled brain of a former queen's advisors, I must say."

The monologue had come so quickly that Cain lost track of it. So it was no surprise that his response wasn't one of his more educated ones.

"...What?"

"Never mind," Ambrose growled and continued pacing.

Now one might wonder how the two could become locked in a holding cell at what could only be called a dungeon to the castle at Fen Aqua. Saying that this wasn't the plan was an understatement. The plan was to find the queen's old dresses in order to properly dress her eldest daughter. Az wasn't exactly a fan of the clothes the witch had imposed on her during her reign on both the O.Z. and her body.

Ambrose had been certain he could remember where the basement closet was. All would have been fine if when they'd come upon the dungeon they had headed back, but Cain had to become curious, ask questions, and ultimately the old, unused holding cell door did the rest.

It didn't help Cain's conscience that the queen had ordered him to make sure Ambrose got there and back safely. But, in his defense, he had gotten caught up in Ambrose's story about the dungeon. The dialogue went something like:

"Where are we?" Cain had asked, exploring inside the cell of a place that looked suspiciously like a prison.

"Oh this?"Ambrose followed him in. "This is the castle dungeon. It was originally not going to have a dungeon and it really hasn't been used at all. Looking back, it might have been a little brash to add one as there really wasn't a reason for it, the castle being in such a relatively peaceful area, but it's always good to be prepared. You never know when someone..."

A large screeching boom.

"What was that?"

"Holding cell door," Ambrose replied.

"Does that mean—"

"Yep."

And that brings us to the present. This would be the part where they try to blame each other for their predicament, ultimately discovering that it didn't matter who's fault it was but that they really should find a way out.

Cain watched Ambrose pace for a while longer before losing his patience and holding the advisor's shoulder still.

"How do we get out of here?" he asked, his teeth gritting. He wasn't exactly a fan of being locked up.

Ambrose looked from him to the door. He cocked his head and looked around for how the cell door worked. He shrugged off Cain's arm and leaned on the bars looking up at the mechanism that was responsible for raising and lowering the door. Central City had a similar system. He had invented the mechanism for quick recovery and imprisonment without fumbling around with keys.

It took him a few tries of angling his head with the small entry slit at the top but finally he was able, halfway climbing up the door, to see what had happened.

"It was hanging on a thread as it was," he explained, squinting at the damage. "I advised that they should use a stronger metal rope, less likely to rust but there wasn't much care for this dungeon as it was assumed that it wouldn't be used very much. The vibration of walking into the cell must have been just enough to let go the rope bracing the door up. That means we won't be able to manipulate the lever at the side to raise it. It's locked into place but perhaps we can pull it up with enough strength to break the locks. It seems like a logical presumption that the locks are just as rusted as the rope was. Isn't it amazing how a simple pulley system such as this can be so efficient."

"Whatever we do let's do it fast, hm?" Cain said, impatiently.

"Claustrophobic?" Ambrose asked, curiously.

"Locked in a metal suit?" Cain replied.

"Oh, right," he said, brow furrowed. "Well, let's try to pry the door OOOP!" Ambrose fell from the height he'd climbed on to the cell floor. He quickly recovered before Cain could help him. "I was...always a little clumsy," he explained, dusting himself off and smiling nervously.

Cain glanced at him but said nothing about the self-proclaimed clumsiness.

"So, what do we do? Just grab bars and try to open the door?"

"Pushing it up, yes," Ambrose confirmed. "Just...take the bars from the bottom..." He hesitated before gingerly grabbing hold of a pair of horizontal bars. "And pull up!"

Cain squatted and took hold. They nodded to each other and through an intense process of grunts, groans, and popping joints the two fit (though admittedly middle-aged men) were quickly losing the battle. After a good five minutes of this collaborative straining Cain stood up with a grunt and decided to study the walls for imperfections instead. Ambrose didn't realize Cain had left and when he looked back around at his friend he saw a butt swerving this way and that, ahead of which was the straining face of the queen's advisor.

Cain crossed his arms.

"Glitch," he called. No response. "Glitch!" Nothing. "Hey, Ambrose!"

Ambrose jumped and spun around, leaning against the bars. "I don't think this is going to work," he replied breathlessly. He looked down at his hands. They were covered with rust and dirt. His face shriveled at the sight. He started to wipe them on his pants but they were new pants as well as his coat. Finally he resigned to rub his hands together getting the dry dirt off as best he could.

"Yeah. Is there another way out?"

"Ummm..." Ambrose tapped his chin idly. He suddenly looked hopeful! Of course there was! There was that...well...actually "No," he finally answered matter-of-factly.

Cain growled and hit the wall with his fist. He slid down in a huff.

"Listen, tin man," Ambrose said, leaning a hand against the wall, then looking at his hand and brushing it off of dirt. "This place could use a good clean up. Anyway, everyone up there knows we're gone, right? So given enough time there should be a search party for us. Soon enough we'll be laughing about this tomorrow night at dinner. Oh, the antics of tin men and advisors! Oh that crazy Cain and Ambrose. Always the mismatched pair, those two. Always getting into trouble, those two."

He looked down at Cain who was doing anything but smiling.

"Well, maybe YOU won't be laughing. But I can guarantee it will be a riot back at the castle with the queen. She has a great sense of humor. I just love to hear her laugh. You know, when I was the Ambrose before I was Glitch I wasn't very good at making her laugh. But being Glitch has certainly offered me a sense of humor. Well, that and a considerable amount of brain damage." A giggle. A far off look. "But it does my heart good to see the queen smiling no matter what the cost."

"Glitch."

"Yes, Cain?"

"Shut up."


	2. Chapter Two: A Shocking nonEscape

Why, Author Unknown, what are you doing up at this ungodly hour?

Oh, I'm just posting this little second chapter so I can get the third chapter up sometime tomorrow.

Weren't you just at the bank desperately putting in a check in the bank to cover a bill you just paid?

What? No, that was my doppelgänger! Fred.

You're a girl.

You're a hack!

You're...

Disclaimer: Not MINE MINE MINE. (like Finding Nemo)

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**Chapter Two:**

_**A Shocking (non)Escape**_

Offended and angered by Cain's infinite pessimism Ambrose plopped down beside the lug. "You know, you would benefit from a long, soothing meditation, Cain. It really would do wonders for that despicable personality of yours."

"Is it a silent meditation?" Cain asked, eyebrow raised.

"Yes, it can be," Ambrose replied.

"Alright," Cain said with a slow nod. "Show me how."

Ambrose nodded. It was about time Cain took his advise on something. He crossed his legs and put his hands in his lap. "Get in a comfortable position and take three deep breaths." He did so.

Cain followed in suit.

"Just close your eyes and clear your mind of everything," Ambrose continued.

Cain closed his eyes as Ambrose did.

"Mmhmm," Ambrose heard Cain murmur from beside him.

"And just breeeeeaaathe," Ambrose said. "In and out."

After a few moments of this Ambrose was feeling quite calm, peaceful even. There was a goofy smile on his face. After a few moments Cain, on the other hand, had become a little lightheaded with all the breathing and opened an eye to his friend to make sure he was still in deep meditation.

"Doesn't that feel better, Cain?" His friend didn't answer. "Cain?" Nothing. He lowered his brows in confusion and opened one eye to find an empty space beside him. "Cain?" he whispered.

Looking around with his one eye opened to the world and the other squinted in determination of meditation he spotted the tin man at the door trying desperately to heave it past the threshold of its locks. Ambrose sighed and reluctantly abandoned his meditation techniques. He stood up and approached the man.

"You know. I really doubt that if both of us couldn't get it up you can get it up."

"I know," Cain answered with a grunt and another heave.

"Oh, good. Don't come to me when your back goes out, then!"

"I won't." Another straining push.

"Why are you doing this! It's futile!"

"Can't do nothin'," he muttered.

"Ah. Boy scout syndrome again. I thought we got over this, Cain." No answer. Ambrose paced. "Give it up, leader-boy! You can't expect to lift the door all by your–"

Creak.

"Lift! Lift! Lift!" Ambrose cheer-leaded, enthusiastically as he clapped.

There was a loud pop as the sheer determination of the tin man broke the locks on the door. With astounding effort, the effort that could only be brought on by spending an extended amount of time with Ambrose, the door started to rise! But as quickly as the door was brought up a sheen of ethereal blue energy blanketed the door and the door, along with Cain, was brought down abruptly leaving our strong hero slammed into the ground below him, wheezing for breath.

"Oh. Right," Ambrose said, biting his bottom lip. "Magic."

"What?" Cain struggled to say from his position on the ground.

"The queen had this cell shrouded in magic when it was clear Azkadelia was under the influence of the witch. It had been a plan to keep her here but she didn't have the heart to lock her eldest daughter up. I don't think I would have, either," he ended, sadly.

"Couldn't of shared that knowledge before?" Cain wheezed, still trying to prop himself up.

"I was...caught up in your brute strength!" Ambrose argued. "My noggin isn't as sharp as it used to be, you know. I'm easily distracted by displays of mindless testosterone. What can I say? I'm a sucker for caveman mentality." He shrugged.

Cain had finally worked himself into a sitting position. He grunted as he leaned against a wall and looked at the door. "No other way out, then?"

"No," Ambrose confirmed taking Cain's example and sitting down. He had long abandoned the attempt to stay clean.

Cain took a moment to glance over at Ambrose. The zipper on his head had been replaced by a scar the same width and length of the zipper. His hair was currently combed over this place but the beginning of the scar tissue was visible on his forehead where the end of the zipper had been. Cain had feared when he spoke to Ambrose for that small moment while Glitch was in contact with the rest of his brain that the man would be as stuffy as he had sounded and arrogant as well.

Fortunately the amalgamation of the man's experiences had toned Ambrose down quite a bit, though there was still a dark presence as if the memory of being locked in a tank with no way to escape only left with one's thoughts was still present. It was only in these times of silence that Ambrose's face became stern, sterner than the painting they had seen while in the castle in the north. Cain assumed this was the reason that the Glitch persona came out frequently so that thoughts didn't run to the time locked in that large glass jar.

Cain wasn't as mindless and cave man like as he appeared. Ambrose suddenly shuffled beside him. He was pulling something from his pocket. It was a piece of folded parchment.

"What's that?" Cain asked.

"D.G. She drew a picture for me. She," Ambrose unfolded the paper handed it to Cain, "saw me out on the balcony one day staring off into the distance. I believe I was thinking of a way to safe guard my inventions from ever being used for evil again. She told me not to move and did a quick sketch. That girl has magic in her fingers when she draws. I can't even draw a stick figure but she, she can make life out of something so two dimensional as a drawing." Ambrose smiled, admiringly.

The picture was, indeed, something intriguing. She had caught Ambrose's expression perfectly and, though the pencil marks were haphazard, it made the finished drawing look as if it could walk right off the paper. Cain was always taken aback at this ability in D.G. The girl had always served to amaze him with everything she accomplished. He folded the drawing back up and gave it to his companion.

"Magic," Ambrose muttered, rubbing his fingers along the creases of the drawing. Suddenly his face lit up. "Of course!"

Cain turned a curious eye to him. Ambrose shot up and went to the door of the cell.

"It just might work!" Ambrose exclaimed.

"Care to enlighten me?" But Cain sensed it was futile to interrupt the epiphany of idea when Ambrose was in the midst of it.

"D.G.'s magic is locked in this drawing. Certainly if it were used as a talisman it might just act as a key. Perhaps if I hold it up to the inner workings of the door it just might be able to open it up letting us go." Without a second thought, Ambrose climbed up the door once more.

Cain had his misgivings and expressed them for all the good it did. "Wouldn't the queen have known magic could be used–"

"Yes, but D.G.'s magic IS the queen's magic!" Ambrose insisted.

He shoved the paper into the shimmering blue light of magic that kept the door closed. It was a frantic gesture, something Ambrose would have never done. He would be far more restrained in the matter. Perhaps he would even volunteer Cain for the job.

For a moment nothing happened.

Cain had a distinctively uncomfortable feeling about this. He stood and crossed his arms as if prepared for something to go amiss. He wasn't completely certain about magic. He'd never understood it completely. All he did understand that it was a lot of power. And playing with that much power was never too sure.

Ambrose whimpered pleading to the piece of paper to do something, anything. "Come on. Come on," he muttered. Suddenly there was a flash of light. But as soon as Ambrose's face alighted with joy an unseen power catapulted the man across the cell slamming him into the back wall.

Cain, by instinct, held onto his hat as he stared wide-eyed at his friend's ragdoll appearance as he dropped down to the ground.

"Glitch!"


	3. Chapter Three: In the Nick of Time

This chapter is a bit longer than the others. This is the bonding chapter, really. I fleshed it out a lot from what it originally was. I added Cain's bit about his past in the conversation because I thought there was an imbalance of Glitch's prattle. Tell me what you think. I think I inserted it fairly well, but I could always use feedback.

I also want to take a moment to say how much I appreciate people who've added me for receiving updates for future chapters. I appreciate this gesture as much as I do people who take time to leave comments. It means a lot that you are so interested in this story to actually have alerts sent to you about future developments. This is pretty much the meat of the story in this chapter but there will be a couple more chapters for the escape and the reflection. I hope all of you, commenters and adders, enjoy it.

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**Chapter Three:**

_**In the Nick of Time**_

In Ambrose's hand was the folded piece of paper, smoking and singed. Ambrose, himself, wasn't looking too good, either. His face was relaxed into unconsciousness as his body laid against the far wall of the cell. And soon, Cain was at his side.

"Hey," he called gruffly shaking him. "C'mon, Glitch." He breathed through his nose, irritated, and sat on his legs. "Don't make me slap you again," he warned.

"You're such an animal, Cain," the small voice of Ambrose called softly. His eyebrows scrunched and his Adam's apple jumped in a swallow. He'd only been out a few seconds but it felt much longer. "You just...can't call me Ambrose can you?" he said with a smirk. He cracked his dark eyes to the other man's pale ones.

"You'll always be a headcase to me," Cain joked in monotone.

"Good to know," Ambrose replied with a roll of his eyes which made his euphoria all the worse. He tried to sit up more but there was a sharp pain in his neck that made him cry out. His face twisted in pain letting a soft gasp come in through his agape mouth.

"What's wrong?"

"Neck," Ambrose strained. "I can't move it. It hurts. Oh. Ow."

"Hold on. Don't move," Cain commanded. He taking his jacket off.

"Why tin man, I never would have guessed," Ambrose replied seductively with a dimpled smirk.

"You continue with that thought and your neck'll be more than hurtin', I promise," Cain said, rolling up his jacket with a glare.

Ambrose took Cain's word on it and nodded. He gasped at the pain it caused. Note to self, he thought, no more affirmative head movements.

"Here, sit up."

Ambrose did what Cain said. He could be so bossy, though, said a small voice in the back of his head with a sigh. He felt Cain's rolled jacket on his shoulders and around his neck. He could smell the man and where he'd been in the fabric.

"Ugh, don't you ever wash this thing?" he said, automatically.

Cain ignored the comment. "Does that feel better?" he asked instead, civilly.

"Yes. Thankyou," Ambrose said, genuinely. He scooted up the wall so he was sitting straight instead of at a painful angle.

"So. I'm guessin' that didn't work as planned," Cain said leaning against the same wall Ambrose was, beside him. He put one leg up and propped his arm on it. "What about a gun..."

"I wouldn't try it," Ambrose said quickly.

Cain nodded. "So, looks like we're gonna be here for a while."

"Yep." Ambrose smiled as a convention.

"What is that word D.G. always uses? Sip?"

"Suck!" Ambrose offered.

"Suck. This sucks," Cain said agreeing with the slang.

"A good deal," Ambrose concurred. He looked down and pouted. "That's not fair."

"What?" Cain asked.

Ambrose held up the charred picture, with a sad frown. Cain took it and opened it. He cleared off the ash and shrugged. "S'not that bad," he said. "It's only your head." He held up the picture, sans Ambrose's head.

Ambrose glared at him and snatched the picture from him. He rested his head back into the coat and sighed.

"What happened to that blind optimism?"

"It's currently being overpowered by blinding pain," Ambrose grumbled.

Cain nodded. He took a breath and let it out. Ambrose's pouting silence was unnerving. After a few moments again he was actually starting to miss the twerp's constant chatter. Even after the brain recovery his friend kept that charming blather. It was just more pointed now.

"So. Are you still mad at those girls for ignoring you at the dances?" Cain said, trying to spark up some sort of conversation. He said it quickly as if he was pulling off a band-aid and pointedly didn't look at Ambrose. He was, after all, a rough and tough leader.

Ambrose, who had been fingering the parchment his perfect drawing had been on and looking off at the lever to the cell that he knew would no longer work, gave a suspicious glance at his friend. It could be some sort of trick, he thought. But the more he looked at the pale man the more he realized that he might actually be genuinely trying to small talk. He smiled, then chuckled.

"To be honest, I only cared for the convention of it all. I don't even like girls," he admitted flippantly.

There was a pause from Cain as he squinted. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Not my thing," Ambrose replied. "Not that I've had a substantial relationship with either gender," he added with a scoff.

"So...that means that you..." Cain pointed at him, hesitant on continuing the thought.

"Like boys, yes! Cain, surely even with half a brain in my head you had to have known!"

"Huh," Cain said, letting the admission settle in. "I thought you were just...stuffy."

"I am," he agreed. "I was. Very. I don't think, actually, it was that I was stuffy, not that I wasn't, mind you, but that I was terribly and painfully shy. I was so self conscious and wanted to please so much. I was stubbornly loyal and faithful to degrees where I wouldn't even allow myself a moment to be me. Taking into account, of course, that I had no idea who I really was. I was so absolutely naive. So incredibly clueless. And a man at my age shouldn't have been."

"Your age?" Cain scoffed. "You couldn't have been over 25 or 30 at the time. Believe me, that's not old."

Ambrose gave him a dubious side glance before bursting out in laughter, causing pain in his neck. "25!" he exclaimed. "Really? Honestly? Your not just trying to compliment the crippled, are you?"

"No, I just. You looked pretty young." Cain shrugged. "Why? How old are you?"

"Too old," Ambrose admitted.

Cain smirked and covered his mouth casually with his hand. Then he thought of something else he'd been meaning to ask Ambrose ever since he'd had full access to his memories.

"What about the fighting?"

"What fighting?"

"You know. The dance. When you took out all those guards." Cain thought that surely a man of Ambrose's status and acknowledged stuffiness wouldn't have had direct contact with learning to fight.

"Oh, that," Ambrose said, looking up. He smiled but didn't say anything more.

"Well?"

"What?"

"What was that? I don't know many advisors who have that kind of skill."

"Jealous?"

"No," Cain said, immediately. Then, after a thought: "Maybe..."

"It's all in–"

"The rhythm," Cain finished, exhausted at the statement.

"And the soul," Ambrose reminded him.

"Right. But...where did it come from?"

"I couldn't say," Ambrose said.

"You're kidding. You're not going to tell me?"

"Uhm...no."

Cain huffed and picked at his pants. Even small talk was tiring with Glitch.

"Are you pouting?" Ambrose asked, grinning.

"No," Cain replied.

Ambrose laughed and Cain looked up as if to bring some inner strength to the reception of the advisor's humor. At the end he found himself skillfully hiding yet another small smile. As much as he hated to admit it, his friendship with Glitch had developed as strong as the relationship with D.G., Raw, and even his son. Glitch was his family and you can't help but love your family.

"Cain," Ambrose said.

Cain took note of the sudden change in his voice and demeanor. It was much more subdued and serious, a tone he imagined Ambrose had used a lot before the witch had taken over. It inspired him to look at him and note the change in his face as well.

Ambrose struggled a little feeling slightly self-conscious of the stare he was getting from Cain.

"How...How was it in the suit? I mean...the metal one," Ambrose finally squeezed out.

Cain took a deep breath. "Bad," he settled on after some thought. Still, after all this time, he wasn't quite sure he was able to expound on it. The smell of his own waste, the hunger, the sadness, the constant thinking, all of it regressed to one word. Bad. And that was all he cared to say about it.

Ambrose caught himself before trying to nod. "Yeah," he said, almost as an agreement. Bad would have described pretty well the imprisonment in the glass jar. Bad also wasn't too shabby for the constant forgetfulness of his former self when he'd only had part of his brain. Bad covered pretty much all of it. It was an all-encompassing word, that one.

"You know what I was doing the first time I met Adora?" Cain suddenly said breaking the silence. He wasn't quite sure why he'd brought it up except that the memory of the suit always brought out the memories of Adora.

Ambrose smiled, faintly. "What?" he asked softly.

"I was at a ball. I was...one of the guards. I was very young. It wasn't a large ball hence they'd put a rookie on duty there. I think...now that I think about it...it might've been a birthday ball. I don't remember rightly. Anyway." He took a breath. "Adora and her friends were talking in a corner. Chatting and giggling. Turns out that she'd gotten a bet to ask me to dance. I was young, I didn't know what to do when she asked. I figured I could still keep an eye on everyone while satiating her, but thing is I didn't really know much about dancin'. Still don't. So, I step on a few of her toes and showed her my two left feet for a while until she needed to sit down. Weirdest thing. She was sat there rubbing those same feet I'd stomped on when it hit me how perfect she was. Most perfect person I'd ever seen. And she looked back and me and I could see in her eyes that it wasn't exactly a one-sided opinion. Two years after that we married. I stepped on her feet at that one, too," he said with a smile, which was a rare thing from Cain.

"That's a beautiful memory to have," Ambrose replied.

"Yeah..." Cain said, trailing off. Then something came to him. "You know, she also said that the first thing she noticed about me? And you can't go repeating this to anyone."

"Scouts honor," Ambrose assured him, grinning.

"It was," Cain cleared his throat, "my rear," he finished lowly.

"You're what?" Ambrose asked.

"My...rear-end," Cain said again.

"You're..."

"Butt." Cain decided to take the blunt approach.

Ambrose giggled.

A moment later Cain looked over to see Ambrose, for lack of a better description, "checking him out." Those dark brown eyes were scanning him as far as they could see without having to turn his whiplashed neck. Cain's face immediately grew grim. He growled.

"What? I wanna see if it's true..."

He stood up quickly to the sound of more peals of laughter from Ambrose.

"You have no sense of humor."

"And you have too much," Cain rumbled. He backed up into the corner so Ambrose couldn't get a peek around. A blush had crept up his neck.

"How can anyone have too much humor!" Ambrose argued, still smiling.

"Someone who's hiding," Cain said, lowly.

Ambrose's face changed again into seriousness. It was the expression of a man who had just had his pants tugged down to find he wasn't wearing shorts with hearts on them, just the normal everyday boxers like everyone else. He gave Cain a sideways glare.

And if D.G. and Raw hadn't walked through the dungeon door at that moment Ambrose might have sustained a more substantial injury than the one he already had either from Cain or from getting up to stare the man in the face. Thankfully the two arrived at just the right time.

"What..." D.G. blinked.

"Hi D.G.!" Ambrose exclaimed. "We were just...chatting."

Cain was rubbing the back of his neck. "Nice of you to finally show up, kid."


	4. Chapter Four: RescuedEventually

I think this chapter is pretty aptly named as I "eventually" got this chapter done. It's been sitting on my desktop for quite a while. The holiday season has been good but it's also been busy. But not to worry. One chapter after this and I'll be done.

I send my apologies to all the Glitch/Cain shippers as there really isn't anymore of that friendly conversation going on between them in this chapter. But there will be in the next chapter as sort of an epilogue to the story. Again, you may get what you wish from it, but my intentions weren't to create a romantic connection between the two.

I'd love to spend half this chapter sharing my points of view but I'd much rather everyone else be free to express their desires of what they see in stories how they wish. So I won't bog this down with opinion.

I hope you enjoy this. :)

p.s. Lots of dialog here.

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**Chapter Four:**

_**Rescued...eventually**_

"Yeah, well, took me a while. Kind of...really far away from the closet. Like..." She gestured to the far end of the castle. "Really far," she whispered.

Raw cocked his head at the two. It had just so happened that he had been visiting the castle as an ambassador of his people to give an update on their progress rebuilding. The last thing he'd expected to see was the warrior and the thinker in a cell together. And though the initial notion he gained was the familiar discomfort and bristles that Cain and Glitch exchanged he also felt something more than was there before. Something shared that hadn't been before.

"Friends," he said, softly, nodding at them. Then Raw's face changed to concern. "Glitch hurt."

D.G. glanced at Raw and then back at the two. "Glitch. I mean...Ambrose. Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Ambrose started, remorseful. "I just–"

"He was startin' to annoy me so I threw the twerp at the cell door," Cain interrupted, acting very serious.

It took only a moment for Ambrose to catch on, incredulous at the sudden change. Cain? Joking? The advisor's mouth twitched, but he kept a serious manner.

"It...didn't work," he stated, matter-of-factly.

"Well obviously," Cain agreed, his arms crossed.

A beat passed and D.G. turned to Raw as he suddenly burst into joyous laughter.

"It's not funny, Raw! How could you _do_ that, Mr. Cain!" she demanded.

"Joke!" Raw said.

She turned back to Cain and Ambrose with a glare. Cain smiled lightly as Ambrose grinned only partially guilty.

"Oh, so not funny. You know, I think I'll just leave you two in there. Yeah. That's exactly what I'll do!"

"D.G.!" they called simultaneously as she started to turn on her heel amidst Raw's continuing giggles. She smiled, turning around. Throwing her hands up and slapping them back down on her legs.

"I have to have the _weirdest_ friends in all the inner _and_ outer zone," D.G. proclaimed.

D.G. looked at the door in consternation. She went for the lever to the door but both Raw and Cain were adamant against it.

"It won't work. The...uh..." Cain struggled, remembering the reason Ambrose had given.

"Rope broke," Ambrose offered.

"Yeah, rope. It's on a pulley system. Bad rope." Cain nodded stiffly.

"Right," Ambrose agreed.

"So...how do we open it?" D.G. asked.

"Magic," Ambrose offered helpfully.

"Right," D.G. said. She got ready with her hand up and paused. "And how exactly do I do that?"

"Wave and flutter?" Ambrose suggested, tinkling his fingers as example.

"Focus, D.G.," Raw offered, sagely.

"I think I like your suggestion better," she replied to Raw causing him to give a wise nod.

"Kiss up," Ambrose told Raw, haughtily.

"Jealous?" Raw asked with a smile.

"Yes! He is! Could we just do this already?" Cain exclaimed, exhausted with the banter and not particularly in the mood to spend the rest of his day locked in a prison. Plus, the aggravation of having to converse with Glitch the entire time was really too much at this point.

The group was silent, staring in surprise at Cain's sudden outburst. Usually he was calm but even the most stoic of hero-types could be brought down by banter with a haughty genius.

"What?" Cain said, looking around. "Just, get us outta here, will ya?" Cain pleaded.

"Ooohkay. Will do," D.G. answered. She raised her hand and closed her eyes. The image that always appeared in her head to inspire magic was her doll spinning manically, and the memory of Az's hand in hers. Though she had recovered a lot of her memories from her childhood since she had been in the O.Z. this one was one of the sharpest. She took a deep breath. Her fingers shivered.

"See? Fluttering," Ambrose whispered.

Cain huffed in reply as and Raw looked put out.

"Shh!" D.G. insisted.

Slowly but surely the door opened, creaking against the heft of its weight. The shimmer got stronger as it did.

"I've got it!" Cain called grabbing hold of the risen door.

"You sure?" DG questions, peeking one eye open in amazement at the strength of her magic.

Raw gave Cain a perplexed look but said nothing.

"Yeah. Go help Glitch, will ya?"

"You know, would it hurt you to call me Ambrose? Hm? I mean...heavens forbid you bring yourself to use my actual name. Not that I don't appreciate the colloquial 'buddy' nickname, but..."

"Hey Ambrose, stop talking so we can start walking, okay?" D.G. said, offering him a hand.

The minute DG's magic had abandoned the door Cain realized just how heavy it was. His eyeballs started to bulge and he clinched his teeth in order to keep from whimpering. The door was resting nearly entirely on his shoulder though he made an effort to keep it up with his arm.

Raw helped Ambrose up to his feet and stood on the inside of the door facing the Tin Man's neck through the bars, which had turned just as red as his face. Raw grinned. It wasn't as if he were enjoying Cain's pain, but it was fun to see the man's pride sustain a good amount of bruising. Cain was known to try and carry the world on his shoulders and Raw rather liked the literalness of the metaphor expressed in this moment.

"Heavy?" Raw asked, widening his eyes perceptively.

Cain's now tomato colored face turned to look at Raw through the bars.

"No. Not in the least," he squeaked. "Get. Out."

Raw chuckled the ducked underneath the door. Cain slammed the door behind him, rolling his shoulder with a wince.

"You know, I'm pretty sure I coulda held it up for you a little longer," D.G. offered. "You okay?"

Cain turned to her stiffly and nodded. "Thank you. Let's go."

He took the lead, as usual. Even though it had ultimately been D.G. and Raw that had saved them, he always felt a responsibility to provide leadership.

"Gawd, Glitch," D.G. whispered to Ambrose. "How did you survive with him."

"It wasn't easy," Ambrose said, bravely. "But it was something I knew I had to do." He nodded and yelped. Right. The whiplash.


End file.
